You’re notsupposed to look at them. You’re not even supposed to acknowledge they’r

You’re notsupposed to look at them. You’re not even supposed to acknowledge they’rethere. Everybody sees them, from time to time. When you’re out early in themorning, or hurrying home late at night. You see them moving in the corner ofyour eye, at the very edge of your vision. But they’re blurry enough to be afigment of your imagination, and that’s what you’re supposed to pretend theyare. But they are so beautiful. They move so slowly and stately. Even thefawns, rare as they are, seem too tranquil and graceful to skip or stumble.There is only ever one stag, his horns stretched out far enough to catch on theclouds. He does not always lead the herd, though. The herd knows their path toowell to need guidance. They make their way along the horizon, slowly meltinginto the colours of the sky. Just like they have always done.She reallydidn’t mean to look right at them. But it really wasn’t her fault. We’resupposed to be safe when the sun is high above us. By daylight there should beno reason to fear the shadows playing in the corners of our eyes. No, as longas the sun shines bright the world should belong to the mortals. How was she toknow they would move by noonlight? Still, sheshouldn’t have looked. Because we can live with not knowing the ghostly shapesat the edge of our minds. If what is not truly understood also not quite real,it cannot plague is. But to see something like that, really see it, and knowyou can never understand it. That could drive a person mad. That could drive agirl to tie up her hair, pack her bag and follow the horizon, tracing the hoofprints that were now only visible in her mind. Because they were so wondrouslybeautiful. So magnificently, incomprehensibly beautiful. And they walked soslowly…one day she might catch up. -- source link

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